


The Master Tailors

by Cloudlb



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Merlin (TV)
Genre: Comic book logic, Crack, Crossover, Eggsy-is-my-fave, Gen, Guest Stars, Hot Blokes in the Attic, Magic, Origin Story, Post-Movie(s), So many layers of parody, Supernatural Elements, Tailors being awesome, slash-if-you-squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudlb/pseuds/Cloudlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something funny going on at Kingsman.  Eggsy investigates.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Master Tailors

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a Kingsman fic which has all the speed, energy, and drama of the film and its wonderful score. This is not that fic. Not beta’d and not Brit-picked, but I did my best.

 

_Hmm. This one’s heart is pure._

_I know, Arthur. A Galahad this time. Poor Harry._

_He’s a feisty one, though. Cute, too. Reminds me of you._

_The dark haired one laughed. And a little shit, oh yes._

 

 ***

 

Eggsy was a very good agent. He believed in the Kingsman mission, trained hard, and reveled in the work. He owed it to himself and his family, after all, not to mention the world. But the way the Kingsman agency itself worked – well, he was still unraveling it. From the tailors fronting the Shop to the airplane mechanics, it all seemed to work seamlessly without much direction, as far as he could tell. The new Arthur seemed to have things under control, but in the “Extra-Secret Service,” there were layers of secrecy built in that made it hard to tell who was really calling the shots. Kingsman had some sort of unofficial relationship with the monarchy, he thought, but no one had explained just how that worked.      

Kingsman just wasn’t like any place else Eggsy had heard of. The whole “being a gentlemen” and “King Arthur” shite for instance – they were full on serious about that.   He was surprised they didn’t have a fucking round table instead of the ordinary--if antique—rectangular one they had.

Most of all, Eggsy had the feeling there was something funny going on that he hadn’t been told yet. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was and it put him on edge. Maybe it was because Kingsman seemed to have too much money to throw around sometimes. Maybe it was because the Knights seemed to accomplish the impossible so routinely. Eggsy thought he was good—fast, well trained, an excellent shot--but after working a few missions with some of the older agents, he was impressed at how exceptionally fast and strong they were. Of course, he had seen that in Harry, but he thought, well, it was just Harry. It wasn’t. It was almost supernatural.

Since Eggsy was indeed a very good agent, after a while he started noticing some other things that didn’t add up. Like how the actual tailors and customers in the Shop never seemed to notice there was a fifth floor to the building. One day he looked up at the building from the street and noticed an elaborate penthouse structure up there, almost a tower, with capacious, old-fashioned looking windows. Why had he never noticed that before?

Like how the agents’ suits didn’t seem to be actually cut and sewn in the tailor shop.

Those suits were something else. They were bulletproof, yeah, but that wasn’t all. Besides being perfectly fitted and elegantly suited to one’s body, they were comfortable at all temperatures, and could be used as survival gear. They had all sorts of weapons built in, too. Each button did something different, there were garrotes and other weapons hidden in the lining and collar, and the pockets had hidden compartments. Eggsy didn’t know how they got them to fit just right, with the holsters and weaponry he carried, without showing bulges or diminishing the flawless cut. And the damned things seemed to just _appear_ in the Shop–-Eggsy had five different, exquisitely styled suits now that he didn’t recall ordering or sitting through fittings for.

 

***

 

“Christ on a cupcake. I’ve got to be fuckin’ mental,” thought Eggsy.

Eggsy paused on the fifth floor landing of the Shop and eyed the door there carefully. There was nothing too odd about it – the hallway was clean and well kept, of course, hung with a tapestry of knights on horses, with a single, well-polished wooden door. There were two portraits of former Kingsmen in military uniform on one wall. Eggsy didn’t know why these guys were stuck all the way up here, where no one came, instead of in the dining room or lower hallways like the rest of them. Maybe they were disgraced agents? Peering more closely at the portraits, he noticed there were no names on the plaques. Strange.

There was something just off about the whole thing, Eggsy thought. His adrenaline and pulse were up, as if he were prepping for a mission. Maybe it was the odd answers he’d gotten when he asked people, “So, who lives on the fif‘ floor o’ the shop?” The answers ranged from, “No one,” to “I don’t know," to “You’re fucking crazy, there are only 4 floors.” This last was always accompanied by a flat, warning look.

Eggsy would swear he had seen a couple of tailor-type blokes go up the stairs and not come down, though. Well, in for a pound, he thought. He tried the doorknob, and felt a peculiar tingle all up and down his body. To his surprise, the door opened.

He found himself in a large room filled with natural light. There were huge windows on two sides, angling toward a dome above with elaborate decorative moulding around the circumference, a hallway off to one side, and a loft space with books tucked under the far wall. Eggsy took this in at a glance, automatically noting possible exits.

The room was full of tailoring paraphernalia: racks of suits finished or in progress, shelves with bolts of fine cloth, antique chests, and tables full of mysterious tools and knickknacks. His gaze was drawn next to a bank of computer screens arrayed against one wall over a long desk. One of the blokes he had seen was sitting there. Big and blond, he looked to be the opposite of the other bloke, who was skinnier, with dark unruly hair. The dark haired one was at a cutting table, and he looked up with a wide smile. “Hello, Galahad.”

Eggsy couldn’t imagine who these people were.  The actual tailors in the shop had denied any knowledge of the fifth floor or anyone residing above them. The men didn’t look exactly like Kingsman agents – they were in shirtsleeves and the only weapons in sight were antiques mounted on the wall.   Eggsy could see one of the distinctively tailored agents’ suits being laid out on the table, but the several computer screens were showing live streams of the current missions, just like in Merlin’s office. They just _weren’t supposed to be there_ , and Eggsy felt his whole being sharpen with anticipation.

“Uh, hiya. So sorry to intrude,” Eggy said warily.

The blond one stood up and approached, making Eggsy’s internal threat meter suddenly spike for no apparent reason. The man was wearing tailored trousers and vest, but no coat, with a red tie and braces over a fine white shirt. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to display impressive forearms, and he wore a wide banded ring on his left forefinger. He came over to Eggsy, extending a hand. “Don’t worry – sooner or later every agent makes his –“

“or her – “ said the other one.

“Or her,“ Blondie agreed, “way up here.”

The handshake was firm, with interesting callouses. The men’s smiles were friendly, but their eyes were sharp. Eggsy found he didn’t care to look too closely into them. He shivered, suddenly unsure why he'd come.

“Why don’t you come sit down and have a cuppa, and we’ll talk. I’m Merlin, by the way,” said the skinny, dark haired one. Although he looked quite young, he had a slightly old-fashioned air. He was attired similarly to his friend, but without the vest, and he wore an elaborately folded and tied blue neck scarf. He had tailor’s garters on his sleeves as well as a cuff with various pins and needles stuck to it. His hands, as he gestured toward a table to the side, were covered in chalk. 

Eggsy snorted. “We already have one of those. You don’t look nufin’ like ‘im.”

“Well, yes. But I’m afraid I’m the original, so you’re stuck with it.”

“Oh?” Eggsy turned to the other bloke who he could see was not only well fit, but carried himself like a fighter. Like a Kingsman. Or maybe . . . “And I suppose you’re Arthur, as well.”

Merlin grinned at his mate. “See? Our Galahad was always a smart one.”

“That’s right,” said Arthur, and suddenly the head he nodded wasn’t just blonde – it was gold. Gold, just like Merlin’s shrewd, old, eyes. Eggsy’s head went swimmy and golden for a few moments. When he blinked, he found himself sitting at a table with the two of them and a pot of tea.

“Milk?” queried Merlin, innocently.

 

***

 

Eggsy stared at the two men in disbelief. “You’re taking the piss!”

While the dark haired man – the fucking original wizard Merlin, apparently, for all he didn’t have a long white beard – poured tea, the men had explained that yes, this was really the Once and Future King, who had been reborn before World War I. And yes, this was really his court sorcerer _. (“Manservant, really. At least to start.” “Wot? Like a valet?”)_

The two went on to explain that Arthur and Merlin had served with distinction during the Great War (because what else was Arthur reborn for?). Merlin’s magic and Arthur’s skill as a fighter enabled them to work brilliantly behind the scenes in special intelligence. When the war ended, and life went on, they figured their allotted tasks were not yet done and cast about for the best way to protect Albion and its scattered peoples.

During the war, they had become acquainted with a couple of the scions of the Kingsman tailor families who were killed in action. Since Merlin had quite a bit of money saved up because of his long life, they decided to use this relationship to improve the effectiveness of the British espionage system, which was hampered in the war by lack of assets on the ground. So, they invested in Kingsman tailors’ Other Venture and became tailors. Of sorts.

Eggsy was still a bit dubious. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the feed from Roxy’s current mission. It looked like she was sitting in the VIP lounge of the Paris airport chatting up a mark. Another screen showed a live feed in front of Parliament. This could be another test, even if he was an agent already. “So, you’re immortal?”

“No,” said Arthur, nodding toward Merlin. “He’s immortal. I’m 31.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’m immortal and have been alive all this time. You were reborn. You were 31 in 1918, Arthur.”

“Oh? What year is this, then?”

“It’s 2015.”

“Well, that would make me . . .” Arthur frowned deeply.

Merlin laughed. “Oi, you prat! Don’t be so vain.” Turning apologetically to Eggsy, he said, “Sorry. We don’t get out much.”

“Right. Yeah, I can see that.” Eggsy fiddled with his teacup. “So, what, you just live up here making suits while monitoring the agents? Send us out on missions, shit like that?”

“Something like that.” Arthur sprawled back in his chair, looking somewhat smug. Well, at least Eggsy now knew for sure who was pulling the strings.

“But you’re . . . magic? The suits – are they magic?” Eggsy’s eyebrows went up. “Fuck me! I knew there was something funny about them suits.”

Merlin and Arthur glanced at each other. “Among other things. The magic is woven all through Kingsman, just as it is throughout Albion. It comes from Merlin, yes, but it also comes through me. And from you,” Arthur explained.

Merlin leaned forward over the small table, looking Eggsy earnestly in the eye. He looked like a gangly puppy with big ears and a friendly grin, Eggsy thought, but the hair on the back of his neck stood up. “The Knights come to us, you see. We don’t get too involved in the selection of recruits – we don’t have to; they’re called.”

“All the Knights have their own roles to play. You, the former Galahad, even your father.  As do we. We – guide where needed.” Arthur nodded gravely.

 “So you can--“ What was that dippy phrase that Harry used? “Preserve peace and protect life? For the greater good?”

 It should have seemed ridiculous to Eggsy – these two seemingly ordinary men claiming to be legends out of the storybooks. Yet somehow, it didn’t seem too outlandish--not any more outlandish than the whole Kingsman outfit was, anyway.

 “So _you_ can,” Merlin affirmed.

 “Good job there with Chester, by the way,” interjected Arthur, “He always was a prick. Why did we knight him, Merlin?”

 Merlin demurred, with a slight wave of his hand. “As a favor to an old friend. He served his purpose.”

 “I shouldn’t have listened to you. He was a prick who let himself be suborned by a insane tyrant.”

 “It was necessary, really.   Oh, and Eggsy, sorry about Harry, too. He was always one of our favorites.” Merlin really did look upset at that.

 The more Eggsy looked at these two men, the more he started to believe. There was just something about them that rang true, despite the absurdity of it. “If you’re actually the real King Arthur and Merlin, wot about the round table?”

 “We couldn’t fit it through the door.” Merlin winked at him. Cheeky bugger.

 

***

 

Arthur stood up from the small table, and Eggsy, perforce, stood up also. Manners maketh, and all that, Eggsy thought, and he was the king, right? _The_ king – the High King of all Albion come reborn. And the other guy in the nerdy tailor’s get up was the legendary Merlin, the kingmaker who was the most powerful sorcerer ever born. Awe warred with a feeling of giddiness.

Eggsy really thought he was dreaming. After all, if it were his dream, why _wouldn’t_ he dream about two fit blokes in the attic?

The feeling of unreality got stronger when out of nowhere Arthur was suddenly brandishing a sword – a fucking sword! Pointed straight at him. Eggsy’s flight or fight reaction swamped him, but he managed to hold his ground with a trademark smirk.

Merlin came up to stand beside his king. He cocked his head, and fixed Eggsy with an intense look. “Yes, I think he’ll do.” He nodded, satisfied.

“Gonna skewer me with that thing, your majesty?” When in doubt, snark was always Eggsy’s fallback tactic. Well, that, and his ankle gun.  

“Not quite.” The look in Arthur’s eyes was deadly serious, but not threatening. He swung the gigantic sword casually up to his shoulder.  “Kneel before me, Gary Unwin.” The note of command in his voice was unmistakable.

This _was_ a dream. He was apparently being knighted by _King Arthur,_ for fuck’s sake. Nevertheless, he knelt, and bowed his head.

“For the greater good of Albion, I dub thee, Sir Galahad.” Excalibur – for such it was – kissed his shoulders once, twice. The touches were light as a feather, yet burned him to the core.

Somewhere, bells pealed, and the sun at that moment broke from the grey London clouds to flood the chamber with light. Eggsy wanted to laugh hysterically at the cheesy Hollywood effect of it all, except he couldn't, because he felt that golden light wash over him, and felt the ringing of the bells in his bones.

Merlin stepped forward and laid his hand on Eggsy’s bent head, murmuring. That golden, swimmy feeling was back again. “Galahad. Welcome, Sir Knight.” He paused. “You can get up now.”

He did, and looked into the eyes of his king, and the king’s warlock. Merlin’s eyes were glowing golden, but his face was shining with pride. Arthur kissed Galahad’s cheeks, and stepped back.

The two strange men seemed to exude auras of power, for a moment not looking quite real, anymore, which, Eggsy supposed, was the point. Nice to know Kingsman had such backing. But . . .

“Are you sure? I mean – I failed the last test, didn’t I?”

Merlin threw up his hands. “I told you that fucking test was crap,” he said to Arthur. And just like that, they were back to seeming like two ordinary blokes.

Arthur shrugged. “The test gives us insight into the candidate either way. Sometimes blind obedience and ruthlessness aren’t the only qualities needed in a Knight. Compassion for innocents and the moral strength to withstand an illegal order are others. Chester King should have remembered that,” he added pointedly.

“Chester rigged the test, anyway. Your poor dog would have been killed, even with blanks, at that distance. And besides, you were needed.” Merlin smiled at Eggsy.

Arthur agreed. “You saved billions of people, Galahad, on your very first mission. No one else would have succeeded.  Camelot may only be a hazy memory, but our civilization still exists because of you. You, and the rest of the Kingsman. You were brilliant, never doubt it.”

Eggsy was feeling a bit overwhelmed. It’s one thing to get a pat on the back, or a shag from a princess, but this was surreal. But he still wondered about a few things. “So, you do make the suits, yeah? For the agents?”

“For the Knights, yes,” Arthur answered. “Kingsman has agents all over the world, but the Knights are special. The suits are the modern armor and they are infused with Merlin’s magic. They protect you, hide you, and add to your power.”

Eggsy mulled that over. “Okay, yeah, that explains a few things. Thanks for the suits, by the way, they’re fucking aces. But why don’t nobody ever mention you? I mean, fuck, if people knew that magic was real and King Arthur was back—“ He stopped, considering.

“Exactly.” Merlin nodded.

“You won’t remember much about us, anyway. Just as a dream. Just as snatches of almost-memory, insights, and feelings. They will give you strength and guidance as you do your duty in the time to come,” said Arthur.

Merlin added, “Along with a bit of magical protection.”

“A bit of oomph.” Arthur grinned and wiggled his hands in a vaguely meant-to-be-magical way.

“Must you always do that?” Merlin complained, as they began escorting Eggsy to the door. Arthur just shrugged.

Merlin continued. “You will hold us in your heart. But when you leave this room, you will have a _geas_ laid on you, never to speak of what you might remember.”

Compelled to defend his honor, Eggsy protested, “Hey, I never grassed no one yet. Ask H . . . ask anyone!”

Arthur laid a large hand on Eggsy’s shoulder. “We know. It’s one of your most sterling qualities. The Knights all retain a deep knowledge of our presence, and it guides their actions. We can and do communicate with your Merlin and Arthur a bit more directly, when needed. Nevertheless, in your surface thoughts, to you, and everyone else, we are only Emerson Wylt and Arthur Penn.   The Master Tailors.

“Goodbye, Sir Galahad. Trust your instincts, and remember, the magic is in you.” Arthur tapped Eggsy’s chest.

At the door, Merlin kissed him on the forehead. “Defend what was, and dream of what can be,” he whispered.

 

***

 

Eggsy sat up in the shuttle as it pulled into HQ, blinking. Had he fallen asleep on the way? He had been dreaming of two hot blokes . . . yeah.  Eggsy decided he really needed a shag soon. For now, he just straightened his tie and shot his cuffs, braced his shoulders and strode out into Kingsman HQ. He took his glasses out of his pocket and put them on. “Merlin, what’s the status? You got another mission for me, bruv?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've managed to complete and publish in a long time, but Kingsman hit me like Da Thunderbolt. Comments are gold, like Arthur's hair. Cheers!
> 
> (You may notice some very slight edits to make corrections or slight wording changes.)


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